


Of Highbars and Leotards

by CaptainCapsicoul



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Gymnastics, Anal Fingering, Anxiety, Comeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Evanstan - Freeform, F/M, Fingering, Gymnastics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, RPF, Robert Redford is kind of an ass, Sensitive Nipples, Social Anxiety, also contains random facts from random interviews, and so is Frank Grillo, careful your marvel is showing, foam pits, past emotional abuse, porn gifs at the end, sort of, the russos to save the day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCapsicoul/pseuds/CaptainCapsicoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Sebastian, gymnastics has been his life for as long as he can remember. While training at the Olympic Training Center, he meets Chris Evans, the (hot) latecomer to the gymnastics world. For four weeks they train together in Colorado Springs and then compete together in Rio de Janeiro. So what if Sebastian can't stop thinking about Chris and Chris can't stop thinking about Sebastian? What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Highbars and Leotards

**Author's Note:**

> A very, very special thanks to [buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com), without whom this story would not exist. They even made a freaking awesome [photoset](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/131129388473/evanstan-fic-recs-of-highbars-and-leotards-by)!!!! 
> 
> I wanted more Evanstan, so of course I had to start writing it! Welcome to my foray into the world of AUs and RPFs! With me, your Olympics obsessed guide. The working title for this fic (and my motto) was "Careful, you're Marvel is showing," if that's any indication as to what kind of RPF this is! Inspired by [this post](http://ithewhimsy.tumblr.com/post/124570663999/uncensoredsideblog-bbuchanann-rival) on tumblr.
> 
> Thank you to [buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com) ([L1av](http://archiveofourown.org/users/L1av/pseuds/L1av)) and [ghostbuckster](http://ghostbuckster.tumblr.com) for being my lovely betas and to [Viper](http://viper-seven.tumblr.com) for her wonderful help in finding 'dem porn gifs!
> 
> I'd like to give a shoutout to the Sebtembersquad for their eternal support and enthusiasm. You guys are the greatest!
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr](http://ithewhimsy.tumblr.com)! There's lots of stucky, some steggy, a whole bunch of marvel and a smattering of cute things (and a new addition of Beckwatney, because that (space)ship has sailed with me)!

The air fills with the electric hum of the florescent lights. Sebastian Stan breathes deeply, inhaling the smell of sweat, chalk, and hope. He looks to his right and sees the wall with pictures of Olympic athletes. There’s a large American flag hanging on the back wall, fluttering softly from the air conditioning. He walks slowly through the gym, noting the apparatuses he usually doesn’t pay attention to, since they’re not ones he competes in – uneven bars, balance beam. He toes off his shoes and takes off his sweats. He carefully wraps his wrists and chalks his hands. He had stretched at home, just like every other morning. He’s warm and limber.

Swinging his arms in circles, Sebastian approaches the pommel horse. It’s his weakest event and his greatest challenge. In the silence of the early morning, golden rays filtering through the high windows, Sebastian mounts the apparatus and begins to swing. He gets lost in the movements, now part of his muscle memory. He relishes in the strain of his muscles and the hollow sound as his hands hit the handles. _Keep your legs together. Make a line from your shoulders to your toes. Don’t bend your elbows. Stay vertical on your handstands_. Coach Redford’s voice is strong in his mind as he moves through his routine. He has to think about every move, every element, making sure it’s perfect. He doesn’t want to have to do that. He wants the routine to flow naturally through his body. He can execute the routine flawlessly, but it’s obvious how hard he’s working.

After a slight hop on his dismount, Sebastian reaches in his bag for his water.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” echoes a voice from the front of the gym.

“Not for a few hours,” Sebastian replies, not looking at the intruder. “Just wanted to have one last work out here.”

“It looked good,” Coach Redford says, walking towards Sebastian. “Your legs came apart a bit after your first handstand. Make sure to use your glutes to keep them together.”

Sebastian nods. He starts pulling off the wrist support and tape, preparing for a run through at the rings.

“Are you excited?” Redford asks.

“Trying not to think about it, to be honest,” Sebastian answers, pulling a spring board to where the rings dangle, unmoving in the early morning.

“Perhaps you should think about it a little more. You’re off to the Olympic Training Center to meet your teammates and get your Olympic gear.”

Sebastian checks on the position of the spring board. “Maybe that’s why I don’t want to think about it.”

And he’s off. The rings are where he excels as a gymnast. He’s strong on the parallel bars, the high bar and vault, and average (for an Olympian) on the floor. He has the power in his legs, but it’s combining his leg power with the strength of his arms required for the tumbling passes that feels gawky and awkward to him. He runs through his rings routine hitting all of the positions perfectly. His arms don’t even shake as he holds the plank for longer than the necessary three seconds.

He loves the pull on his shoulders as he flips and turns. After a devastating fall when he was younger, doctors were unsure of whether he would be able to compete ever again. Through rigorous rounds of physical therapy, he regained full range of motion in his left arm. Because of his therapy regimen, his arms and shoulders became perfect for performing on the rings. The only visible sign that remains from his injury are two scars on his shoulder. They’re paler than his skin and slightly puckered. They’re always visible when he’s training.

Sebastian moves swiftly through his other routines with Redford’s eyes on him at all times. He steps out of bounds twice during his floor routine and loses momentum on the high bar.

“Come on, Sebastian,” Redford says, patting him on the back. “I know you’re better than this. You’ve got to bring everything you have in the coming weeks. Got to prove to the IOC and the world that you made the right choice coming to America for training.”

Sebastian cringes. Redford always brings up how he came to America when he was 12 to train in gymnastics. It’s clear that America has a better gymnastics program than Romania, but he still misses his homeland. When he came to America as a young boy just starting out, he hardly spoke any English. The legendary Robert Redford took Sebastian under his wing and personally trained him since. Sebastian owes his life and his success to Redford.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, wiping his face. The sun is higher in the sky, no longer coming into the gym in slants. “I know.”

He packs up his bags and opens a protein bar. He walks out of the gym with Redford on his tails. “I’ll meet you in Colorado Springs,” Redford says, stepping into his car.

Sebastian raises his hand in acknowledgement, getting in his own vehicle to get to the airport. His bags are packed. His nerves are tingling. He takes one last look at his hometown gym, knowing he’ll be back in a manner of weeks.

He’s traveled for competition and training camps before, but this is different. This is Sebastian’s first Olympics. He’s about to jet off to train with the best gymnasts in the country. He knows most of them by name and he’s encountered many of them at varying competitions over the years. He has a close friendship with Scarlett Johansson, America’s Sweetheart of the women’s gymnastics team. When Sebastian heard that Scarlett had made the Olympic team, he jumped up and down more than she did. It had been quite a sight to see, and the 30 second clip had gotten over 50 million hits on YouTube.

He puts his car in reverse and drives out of the parking lot. The sun is climbing in the sky as he makes his way to JFK.

*

“Name?” asks the bright-eyed volunteer checking the athletes in.

“Sebastian Stan, Artistic Gymnastics,” Sebastian says.

The volunteer shuffles through some folders, pulling one out.

“Here you are Mr. Stan. Your keys and pass are in the folder. Make sure to wear your badge whenever you’re on campus, unless you’re training. Housing is out this door,” she points to the front door, “and down the path to your left. There’s a schedule in there of the first couple of orientation days. After that, you’ll mostly be training every day, unless your coach tells you it’s time to do publicity or something. All meals will be in the dining hall. Snacks are always available there if you need. You’ve got a map with the important places. Your roommate will be Chris Evans, from Boston. Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Stan?”

Sebastian blinks at her. “Uh, no,” he stammers, plucking his badge from the folder and putting it around his neck. “Thanks.”

She smiles brightly and turns her attention to the person behind him. Sebastian takes a deep breath, hikes his duffel bag higher on his shoulder and rolls his suitcase towards the housing building.

“Seb!” cries a voice when he gets about halfway to the large building which says ‘Athlete Housing’ on it. He turns and sees a flash of blonde before a person his leaping into his arms. “You made it!”

“Scarlett!” he cries back, hugging her tightly. “It’s so good to see a familiar face! This is so crazy. The lady at the registration table was talking a mile a minute.”

“I know it can be overwhelming,” Scarlett replies, hopping down from Sebastian’s arms. “I got in a couple of hours ago, so I’ve been able to settle down a bit. Where’s your room?”

Sebastian tries to pull out his folder, fumbling it a bit. “Jeez, Seb, one would think you’d have better coordination for an Olympian,” Scarlett jokes. Sebastian sticks his tongue out at her.

“I’m in room 616.”

“Who’s your roommate?”

“Chris…Evans…? I vaguely remember him from Nationals. He’s from Boston, apparently.”

“Neat! My roommate is this girl Emily VanCamp. She seems really nice. Come on, I’ll help you unpack.”

Relieved to have found a familiar face, Sebastian goes to find his room, Scarlett chattering in his ear the whole way. The housing building is warm and cozy. It looks like a hotel, but with better interior design. There are pictures of Olympians everywhere and the carpet is red, white, and blue.

“This is me,” Sebastian says, pulling out the keycard he had gotten from registration. He opens the door and takes a deep breath in. “Whoa,” he exhales. “This is awesome!”

He drops his bags and starts exploring the room. It’s bigger than a regular hotel room, with two queen sized beds, a bathroom with an enormous bathtub and Jacuzzi options, and an empty space containing some mats, a few free weights, and floor to ceiling mirrors.

“Isn’t it awesome?” Scarlett asks, doing a quick handstand.

“Yeah, this is great,” Sebastian replies, turning back to his bags to start unpacking.

The official Olympic training lasts a month. In that time, he and five other guys have to become a team that will represent America at the 2016 Olympics in Rio de Janeiro. Sebastian has a giant suitcase full of a strange combination of street clothes and gym clothes, almost all of which is either the colors of the American flag, has the US flag, or says USA on it. People at his gym told him that when you’re at the OTC, you really only want to wear Team USA gear, so he brought all of his. He has all of his support gear as well as a Tupperware full of chalk. He’s glad it didn’t explode in his bag (that had happened once when he was in the Junior Olympics, and it was a disaster). He brought a small supply of his favorite protein bars and shakes, but he knows there’s a convenience store type place on the campus that has any kind of health snack imaginable.

Scarlett is tumbling and goofing around in his work out area when the door clicks open. Sebastian looks up from putting his last few pairs of gym pants in the draw when he sees him. Chris Evans. The newcomer who had had an incredible rise in the sport.

“Hey,” Chris says tentatively, pulling a more modestly sized suitcase behind him.

“Uh, hi,” Sebastian replies lamely. “I’m Sebastian. But you probably knew that already.” Sebastian feels his cheeks flame.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve…uh…followed your career for a while…”

Sebastian smiles. “Thank you…?”

Chris blushes and looks down. Sebastian notes how his eyelashes brush his cheeks.

“I’m Scarlett,” the blonde says, popping up at Sebastian’s side. Her face is flushed from being upside down for so long. “Long time Seb fan too.” She sticks her hand out to shake Chris’.

“What’s your event?” Chris asks, heaving his suitcase onto the bed and unzipping it.

“Gymnastics. I mostly do floor and beam, but I compete in the all-around as well.”

“Wicked,” Chris says, smiling.

Sebastian can’t tear his eyes off of the graceful way Chris moves his body, muscles ripping under his too-tight t-shirt. It takes him a couple seconds too long to realize someone is talking to him. “…What?” he asks.

“I _said_ ,” Scarlett says, rolling her eyes, “What’s first on your schedule? I have an orientation thing for women’s gymnastics in about an hour.”

Sebastian pulls out his schedule. “Yeah, me too,” he replies, running his finger down the long line of things he’s scheduled for.

“You have an orientation thing for women’s gymnastics?” Chris asks, a smile in his voice.

Sebastian looks up. “What? No, idiot, I have orientation for men’s gymnastics. How about you?”

“I assume mine’s the same. Do you know what other events are training here? I have a friend who’s a fencer, but she’s at the Lake Placid training center.”

“I know all forms of gymnastics are here – artistic, trampoline, and rhythmic,” Scarlett answers. She seems to know everything. “I think archery, cycling, and track and field are here too.”

Chris nods. “Wicked.”

“You say that a lot, don’t you,” Sebastian says, laying back on the bed. He loves how comfortable and squishy it is.

Chris blushes again. Sebastian likes the way the pink rises to his cheeks, making his blue eyes stand out more. “It’s a Boston thing,” he shrugs. “Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” Sebastian says, wiggling to get more comfortable. Scarlett’s gone back to doing flips and handstands on the mats.

“So this place is neat,” Chris observes, abandoning his half unpacked suitcase to explore the work out area.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice if we want to do some low key training on our own.”

“It’ll be good for getting away from all the people,” Chris notes.

“Do you not like people?” asks Sebastian.

Chris blushes. “I like them fine, I just get anxiety sometimes. My mind’s a really noisy place, so it’s helpful to have somewhere quiet to go to clear it.”

_He does that a lot,_ Sebastian thinks.

“Sorry, that was too much sharing,” Chris continues.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Sebastian replies, shrugging. “Sometimes I get really ineloquent when I have interviews. People say that there’re more ‘uh’s, ‘um’s, ‘well’s, and ‘y’know’s in my interviews than actual substance.”

“You seem pretty fine now,” Chris observes, joining Scarlett in doing handstands. Sebastian feels the air leave his lungs as Chris’ shirt rides up, exposing a small sliver of skin with a light happy trail. He meets Chris’ eyes and automatically looks away.

“Thanks.”

“All right, fellas, I’m going to change before orientation. I’m sure it will be boring as hell, so Seb, keep your phone on. I’ll be texting you.”

“Sure thing, Scarlett,” Sebastian replies.

“Bye Chris!” she calls on her way out. “It was nice to formally meet you.”

“You too, Scarlett. I look forward to seeing you soon.”

The door clicks shut and it’s just Chris and Sebastian.

“So…,” Chris starts, going back to unpacking.

“Want to wander around before orientation? We can get to know our way around?” Sebastian suggests.

Chris smiles and drops the leotard he’s holding. “Yeah! Sounds great. Let me just grab my things.”

Sebastian collects his badge, key, and wallet before slipping into shoes. He waits by the door for Chris to be ready.

“Okay, I’m set,” Chris says, coming to stand near Sebastian. Chris is only a few inches taller than Sebastian, but his shoulders are massive compared to his trim waist.

“Awesome, let’s go!”

* * *

Chris cannot believe his luck. As he walks through the Olympic Training Center with Sebastian, he think about all the hard work and dedication he put it to get to this place. The grounds are gorgeous, with neatly manicured greens and flowers blooming everywhere. It’s a bit weird for him to be at a higher altitude than usual, and he’s been feeling some of the effects, namely in how much he has to pee.

“So tell me,” Sebastian says, turning to face Chris and walk backwards along the path. “How’d you get here?”

Chris smiles. “Turn around, you dummy,” he tells Sebastian, taking the brunet by the shoulders and swinging him so they’re walking side by side. “What do you know about me?”

“That you’re from Boston. Got into the game later than most of us. And that you like dogs.”

Chris raises his eyebrows. “How’d you find that out?” he teases. He’s only mentioned his love of dogs to a couple interviewers, both fairly obscure.

“Scarlett mentioned it. She has this uncanny way of knowing everything about someone.”

“Uh huh. Well then, I guess I should tell you a bit about me, considering all I know about you. My mom decided I had too much energy the third time she had to turn the car around on our way to Ace Ventura. You know, that movie? Anyway, she put me in some acting classes, and I really enjoyed it. I wasn’t a shy kid, per se, but I definitely had some anxiety about being around lots of people. Found out pretty quick I suck at acting, but I loved the performing. When I was on stage, it was like all my fears and self-consciousness disappeared and I could be whoever I wanted to be. I could make the audience think I was someone I’m not. It was really empowering.”

Chris looks around at the majestic mountains rising from around the complex. He hasn’t told many people exactly how he fell into gymnastics, but Sebastian seems like he’s holding onto every word Chris says.

“I tried out a couple things,” Chris continues. “I tried some dancing, track and field, hell I even tried figure skating, but Scott, my brother, had been gong to gymnastics lessons, and I had been grounded, so I had to go with my mom to drive him. She liked to watch his practices and afterwards she asked if I thought it looked fun. I shrugged like any thirteen year-old boy would, but when my brother’s lesson came around the next week, I just felt like I needed to go. My mom signed me up, and here I am. Ten years later, an Olympian.”

Chris looks over at Sebastian, who has a small smile on his face. “That’s so awesome you got into it so late,” Sebastian says, fiddling with his lanyard. “I’ve been doing gymnastics since I can remember. I trained in Romania for seven years before coming to America.” Sebastian stops himself. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“It’s always nice to hear it in person,” Chris replies, smiling. “I think it’s so brave that you came here not knowing anyone or the language.”

Sebastian blushes. “Yeah, I picked it up within the first year. If I get really frustrated or something, I tend to start speaking Romanian. You’ll probably hear some during training.”

“You should teach me some phrases so I know what you’re saying.”

“It’s mostly just swears.”

“I’d still like to know.”

“My most commonly used one is fuck. _Pula mea_. It literally means ‘my cock,’ but it roughly translate to fuck.”

Chris repeats it. “Okay, I think I can do that.”

Sebastian smiles. He glances at his phone to see if Scarlett has texted him anything and he realizes the time. “Shit, we gotta be at the Welcome Center in five minutes.”

“Good thing we’re athletes and can run fast,” Chris answers, running off.

“Chris! Other way!” Sebastian calls, trying to catch up to him. When Chris spins around to go the other way, Sebastian crashed headlong into him. They’re a tangle of limbs as they both laugh hysterically.

“We must look ridiculous,” Chris wheezes, finally getting his two feet under him.

“Like children,” Sebastian agrees. “Now come on, we’re going to be late!”

*

They tear into the Welcome Center with seconds to spare. They fall into a couple chairs, trying to catch their breath and hide their laughs. Chris looks at Sebastian who’s bright red and puffing hard, trying to keep in his laughter. He catches Scarlett’s eye who looks at him with her eyebrow quirked. He raises a hand in recognition.

A round of applause goes through the crowd and Chris joins in, not sure what’s just happened. He’s also vaguely confused about why Scarlett is here, because he thought she had an orientation for the women’s gymnastics. He finally takes stock of the room and cold dread flows through his veins.

“Sebastian,” he hisses urgently. “We’re in the wrong room.”

Sebastian looks around and curses under his breath in what sounds like Romanian.

“I believe you boys are looking for the room next door,” says the woman at the front of the room. She’s tall and lithe and looks like she could murder you with a glance. Chris is sure Scarlett will like her.

Chris blushes an impressive shade of red. “Thank you, ma’am, our apologies.” He and Sebastian slink out of the room, ignoring the snickering they get from the audience.

“Jesus fuck, Sebastian,” Chris whispers, trying to catch his breath. Sebastian has his hands on his knees and his shoulders are shaking.

“Oh my god, Chris, we’re a hot mess.”

“C’mon,” Chris replies, yanking Sebastian by the armpits, noting the strong muscles he finds there. “We gotta go. We’re so late.”

“Okay, okay, just let me…,” Sebastian trails off lost in laughter again. He leans against Chris while Chris nearly drags him to the next room.

“Shh,” Chris says, putting a finger to his lips. He opens the door slowly, and lets Sebastian slip in before him. They tiptoe to the back row and take a seat, trying to remain inconspicuous.

“Mr. Stan and Mr. Evans I presume,” asks the man standing at the front of the room.

“Yes, sir,” Chris answers, giving a wan smile.

“Nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry, sir,” Sebastian says. “We got lost.”

“Obviously,” the man says curtly. “You didn’t miss much. I’m sure someone will fill you in.” He turns back to the group. There are not very many of them, as the Unites States does not have the most impressive men’s gymnastics team in terms of numbers.

“Now,” the man continues. “As I was saying. Over the next four weeks, you will live and train; become a team. You have all pushed yourselves harder and longer, and you have proven to be the best gymnasts in the country. Some of you, even in the world. You have spent your days competing against each other, but today is the day that you start training as a team. You will go to Rio de Janeiro and represent the United States of America as one cohesive unit. There is no room for old rivalries or petty arguments. This is _your_ year and _our_ country. Let’s make the world proud.”

Everyone bursts into applause. The room hums with excitement as people fidget in their seats, waiting to get to the gym.

“And now for some logistics. You all received schedules for the coming days. Today will mostly be orientation, though we will have a short training session later this afternoon. Immediately following this orientation, you will receive your Team USA gear. You do not need to wear it, but most people find that they prefer to wear Team USA clothes because there are people training here from other countries. Tomorrow, you will have your first official training as Team USA. You’ll have a short, informal one later this afternoon. Your coaches and I have spent a considerable amount of time decided who will compete in which events, and you will be notified at that time.

“Now, I’m going to introduce two people who will be invaluable to you during your stay here. Please welcome Joe and Anthony Russo!”

An applause goes through the room as two people take to the front of the room.

“Welcome athletes and Olympians! Welcome to the Olympic Training Center at Colorado Springs. I’m Anthony, and this is my brother Joe.” Joe smiles and waves.

“Here at the complex, we will act as your go-to people if you have any questions not related to your training,” Anthony continues. “If you have questions about where to find something, where you can get a certain food product, how to schedule appointments at our health facilities, or you need advice about where to go outside of this complex – though I bet most of you will not feel the need to leave – then you can come to us.”

“We are also here to answer any questions about logistics as far as publicity goes,” Joe chimes in. “Over the next month, you will be filmed, photographed, and interviewed. Everyone who steps onto these premises has had a background check, and most are veterans at interviewing Olympians. If you have any problems, concerns, or questions, Anthony and I are here for you.”

“Going off of that,” Anthony says, taking the floor back. “We are also around for any questions pertaining to Rio. The USOC will plan all your flights to and from Rio. You will receive itineraries sometime this month, probably within the last week. If your question doesn’t have to do with your routine or the state of the apparatus, then you can ask us. Anything else, ask your coaches.”

“Thank you, Joe and Anthony,” the man from before says, shifting the attention back to him. “Picking up on their last point…just as in your hometown gyms, your coaches are primarily responsible for making sure the apparatuses are safe and secure, but it is your job as athletes to notify us if you feel that something isn’t right. Always better to have more eyes on the floor.

“Now for some basic ground rules of this gym before we go and collect your gear. The rules are posted at all entrances. The gym is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, but you are not allowed to train on your own. You must always have either a coach or a training partner. If you bring a fellow Olympian, one of you must be spotting at all times. You may not both be on apparatuses. There are large signs that say what to do if there are any emergencies, but we hope that will not be the case. Now, if everyone will please take out your phone right now.”

There’s a shuffle as people pull out their phones.

“I want you to put this number as your emergency contact. While you are at the OTC, we ask that you do _not_ call 911. We have an internal system here, and if you call 911, they will call our police line, so it is one less step for you to call this number. Please put it in your phone now: 791-555-2222. Remember, if there is an emergency, _call this number_.” The man stops and makes sure everyone plugs in the number. Chris realizes he still doesn’t know this guy’s name or who he is.

“Great,” the man says when he sees people looking back at him. “Now let’s get that Olympic gear!”

Chairs scrape as people get up and stretch. Chris and Sebastian hang back a little, waiting to see what happens now.

“Hey,” comes a voice from their left. “I’m Anthony Mackie. You’re the guys who came late, right?”

“Yeah,” Chris says sheepishly.

“That’s cool man. Call me Mackie. I do Trampoline. What do you guys do?”

“I do rings and both kinds of bars. I also compete in the all-around,” Sebastian answers.

“Mostly floor and vault, but I also do all-around,” Chris says.

“Awesome!”

“So, uh,” Sebastian starts. “Who was that guy?”

“Oh yeah, you missed that part. His name’s Samuel Jackson. He’s the Team USA coach.”

Chris groans. “Oh no, we’re already on his bad side.”

Mackie laughs. “Nah, I’m sure you guys are fine. He looks tough, but he’s a fair coach.”

“Okay,” Coach Jackson calls over the voices of people chatting. “If you’ll follow me.”

He turns and strides out of the room. He has the grace of a former gymnast.

“First African-American gymnast from the USA to win gold in the all-around, individual event, and team event in a single Olympics,” Mackie tells Chris and Sebastian as they follow the group. “He’s got, like, the most Olympic medals than anyone.”

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Sebastian gasps. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him!”

“He’s a little thinner now,” Mackie says.

“Wow,” Chris says. “And those brothers seemed nice.”

“Oh yeah, people tell me they’re the greatest. Really know their stuff.”

They’re led into a room that’s filled with Team USA backpacks, suitcases, and duffel bags. They’re instructed to sit on the chairs provided.

“So there’s a lot of stuff in these bags, and we just want to make sure everyone’s clear about what’s what. There’s a guide in your suitcase, but this is also a chance for you to see the gear we’ve got for these Olympics.” Coach Jackson nods to the Russo brothers who came with them and they wheel over a cart that’s full of red, white, and blue gear.

“So the way this works,” Anthony starts. “Is that you’ll find the things you’d usually have in each of these receptacles.” He gets some confused looks. “Okay, let’s try that again. In your backpack, you’re going to find things you might usually find in backpacks: notebooks, water bottles, etc. In your suitcase, you’ll find what you should wear for Opening and Closing Ceremonies as well as what you can wear around the Olympic village when you’re not training. In your duffel bags, you have all your training gear as well as what you should wear at competitions. You’re responsible for bringing wrist supports and any wraps, bandages, tape, or any other kinds of supports you need. You’ll get your badges and numbers when you get to Registration at the Olympics. Questions?”

No one raises their hands.

“Fantastic,” Joe says, taking over for his brother. “Let’s start with your suitcase…”

The next half an hour is spent looking at various articles of clothing that all look vaguely similar. There’s only so much you can do with three colors. Once Anthony and Joe finish explaining every article of clothing in each of the bags, Coach Jackson starts calling them out individually to pick up their gear.

* * *

“Fucking hell this is a lot of stuff,” Sebastian moans as he dumps his Team USA gear on his bed. The athletes had been sent back to their dorms to get changed and ready for a short training before dinner.

“It’s all so exciting though,” Chris says, carefully hanging up the outfits for the Opening and Closing ceremonies. “We’re really here!”

“I’m going to have to send a whole bunch of stuff home or else I won’t be able to take it all after this month is up.”

“Quit whining,” Chris replies, throwing a towel at Sebastian. “What should I wear to dinner?”

“I was just going to wear what I wear to practice,” Sebastian says, pulling out a leotard and shorts. He stows the new Team USA duffel and chooses to bring his beat up one. It has faded embroidery that say USA in red, white, and blue on the side. His name and hometown gym are embroidered on the other.

“So what should I wear to practice?” Chris asks, fretting.

“Whatever you normally wear? I’m bringing a red leo and navy shorts.”

“This is so hard.”

“That’s not all that’s hard,” Sebastian jokes.

“What?”

“What?” Sebastian replies, feigning innocence.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Sebastian Stan.”

“I doubt it,” Sebastian says, going to the bathroom to fix his hair. He pulls it in a bun and clips and sprays it in place.

“Isn’t it annoying to have long hair?” Chris asks, sticking his head in the bathroom. He coughs as Sebastian accidentally sprays him with the hairspray.

“Shit, Chris, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”

“It’s fine,” Chris says, waving his hand in front of his face.

“It’s not so bad. You get used to it. Just gotta make sure it’s off your face. Sometimes it comes loose during practice, but I make sure to strap it down for competitions.” Sebastian knows that his best look is a low bun with strands of hair escaping, looking tousled with strands framing his strong jawline.

Chris looks intrigued. “Huh, neat.”

Sebastian washes his hands of the hairspray and grabs the towel Chris had thrown at him earlier.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yup!”

They exit the room together, and make their way towards the gymnasium.

“I wonder what events they’ll put us in,” Chris muses as they walk down the path. They can see other people heading in the same direction.

“As long as I’m doing rings, I’ll be happy,” Sebastian says, readjusting his duffel.

“Hey fellas,” Scarlett says, appearing at their side. With her is another girl who has blonde hair and a cute smile. “This is Emily. She’s from Minnesota. She’s my roommate.”

“Hey Emily,” Chris says. “I’m Chris, Boston, and this is Sebastian, training in New York but formerly Romania.”

Sebastian waves.

“Hi guys. Scarlett pointed you guys out to me when you barged in on our orientation.”

Sebastian groans. “Oops?”

“It’s cool. Coach Smulders thought you two were amusing. Are you excited for our first training?”

“Yeah,” Chris replies. “I’m kind of nervous though.”

“Don’t be,” Scarlett tells him. “It’s just like training at home.”

Sebastian pulls open the door to the gym and is immediately hit with the familiar smell of chalk, plastic, and sweat.

“What’s that goofy smile about?” Scarlett asks, pointing at Sebastian’s face.

“It smells good in here. Like home.”

“Sap.”

Sebastian sticks his tongue out at her.

“Come on guys, they’re gathering over there,” Chris says, gesturing for them to follow. They find Mackie and stand with him.

“Hey, I’m Mackie,” he says, holding a hand out to Scarlett and Emily. The girls introduce themselves and shake hands.

“Good afternoon everyone,” Coach Smulders says from the front of the crowd. Everyone quiets down, waiting for her to speak. “Nice to see you all together. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Coach Cobie Smulders and I am one of the two coaches for Team USA. The other is Coach Samuel Jackson,” she holds her hand out to Coach Jackson. “While you’re here training on individual apparatuses, your regular coach will be in charge. When you have Team training, then it will be Coach Jackson or me. Is that clear?” Everyone nods.

“Very well. As you heard, Coach Jackson and I have met with your individual coaches and have decided which events you will be competing in. These are non-negotiable, so don’t even try.”

Sebastian looks at Chris who’s paying utmost attention. He feels like he’s quivering to get on the rings. Or the bars. Or anything. There’s been too much talking today and not enough training.

“As I mentioned earlier,” Coach Jackson says, commanding the attention of the room, “This training is going to be short and informal. You are on rotation, and you will have one or two tries to go through your routine. Pretend this is a warm up before a competition. If you are Rhythmic or Trampoline, you’re in the next room. Before we begin, you will have some time to warm up and stretch. Don’t need anyone getting hurt. When I call your name, go to your first apparatus and rotate clockwise when you hear the whistle. If you’re in the middle of a routine, finish up and then proceed. Chris Evans, high bar. Sebastian Stan, parallel bars. Chris Hemsworth, vault. Chris Pratt, floor. Paul Rudd, pommel horse. Tom Hiddleston, rings.”

There’s a small shuffle as the men disperse.

“Ladies,” Coach Smulders says over the noise of movement. “Scarlett Johansson, floor. Emily VanCamp, beam. Jaimie Alexander and Chloe Bennet, vault. Kat Dennings, bars.”

The gym fills with the sounds of athletes going through their stretching regimens. Sebastian stands by the parallel bars and stretches his arms and his legs.

“Good to see you, Sebastian,” Redford says. “Glad to see you made it in one piece.”

Sebastian smiles but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to. “I’ve been instructed to tell you what events you’ll be competing in. We’ve got you down for rings, and parallel bars in the individual rounds. You’ll also be competing in the all-around as well as team, if USA qualifies.”

Sebastian’s smile grows. He’s got two of his strongest events in the individual competition.

“Now I know that you’re happy about the individuals,” Redford continues, “But we’ve got to work on your floor and pommel horse if you expect to win the all-around and qualify for the team.”

Sebastian nods. He knows all this already. He fiddles with his arm braces, which he wears during training, particularly at the beginning of a training session. He pats his hands down with chalk and starts chalking up the bars as well. Since he’s first, he really needs to make sure it’s ready to go. Redford joins him in chalking up the apparatus and pulling on them to test their flexibility.

“Good. Are you ready to begin?”

Sebastian nods again. He learned years ago that it’s easier to stay quiet and nod in response to any of Coach Redford’s questions. He doesn’t speak very much during training unless he has a specific question.

“Very well. Now remember, you’re starting with a high D-score, but that can hurt you if your execution isn’t good. Make sure it’s clean.”

Sebastian steps up to the bars and places one hand on each. He takes a deep breath mentally going through his routine before pulling himself up. The moment his feet leave the ground, everything falls away. The sounds of other gymnasts. The hum of the air conditioning. The noises the apparatuses make as they come in contact with feet and hands. It’s just him and the two bars. _Handstand, keep it straight…arch your back…aaaaand swing down. Release the bar, grab it, legs in straddle. Swing up into a V-handstand, legs come together…time for the dismount…stay straight, double tuck_ …

“Well done for your first round at the OTC,” Redford says, pulling Sebastian from his routine reverie. “Slight hop on your dismount, and your execution was fair. You’re not going to win any Olympic medals performing your routine like that, but we’ll work on it.”

Sebastian breathes deeply, regaining his breath. He nods and goes to pick up his water bottle just as Coach Jackson’s whistle blows.

* * *

“For Christ sake, how hard is it to find pizza around here?” asks a man with sandy blond hair and arms that look bigger the Chris’ head. “Hi, I’m Jeremy. Archery. Can I sit?”

Chris nods at the vacant seat next to him. “I’m Chris. This is Sebastian, Emily, and Scarlett. We’re all gymnastics.”

“Hey,” Jeremy nods in acknowledgement. “I know Scarlett already. But seriously, what is this rabbit food they’re feeding us?”

“You’re being ridiculous Jer,” Scarlett says, swatting at her friend. “It wouldn’t kill you to eat a vegetable every now and then.”

“Well I get every so often, but are they going to feed us vegetables the _whole month_?”

“They do have other food, you know,” Emily says, pointing her fork at Jeremy.

“But I don’t _like_ that food. I want pizza. Lucky would share pizza with me.”

“Lucky?” Sebastian asks.

“My dog. She’s with my parents for the month. I begged them to let me bring her, but no such luck. So what were you guys up to today?”

“These two goons,” Scarlett starts, pointing at Chris and Sebastian, “Got lost at orientation and ended up in the women’s gymnastics. Other than that, uneventful. Got some swag, got our assignments.”

“Oh neat!” Jeremy says, staring down his spinach like it’s the devil. “Whatcha competing in?”

“Floor, beam, all-around, team, the usual,” Scarlett says, taking a large bite of her kale.

“Same, but bars and vault for the individual rounds,” Emily adds.

“Rings, parallel bars, all-around, and team,” Sebastian says.

“Floor, high bar, all-around, and team,” Chris tells Jeremy.

“Really? High bar?” Sebastian asks. “Isn’t that your least favorite?”

“Yeah,” Chris grimaces. “I guess I’ll have to get better now.” Chris doesn’t let it show, but he’s really nervous about the high bar. It’s been one of his weakest events, but now he supposes he’ll have to get much better. Coach Jones had assured him during that short training session that Chris would be fine. The gruff voice did little to calm his nerves. Chris had always felt honored that the decorated Tommy Lee Jones offered to take him on as a gymnast, especially after his late entry into the sport. According to Jones, Chris has real potential. Obviously, Chris proved them right.

“Sounds like you guys are super busy. I just have to stand in one place and shoot an arrow. But I got my new Team USA bow today, and it’s beautiful!” Jeremy looks like he has tears welling in his eyes.

“Dude, are you crying over a bow?” Sebastian asks.

Jeremy sniffles. “No, of course not. It’s just…so…beautiful.”

“Quit with the dramatics,” Scarlett says, rolling her eyes. She turns to the rest of the table. “He’s being dramatic. It happens a lot.”

“So how do you two know each other?” Chris asks, plucking a chunk of cantaloupe off Sebastian’s plate. When Sebastian opens his mouth to complain, Chris elbows him and says, “Shh, Scarlett’s speaking.”

“Boys,” Scarlett scoffs. “Jeremy and I met a few years back. He needed someone to help him function like a human.”

“Uh,” says Jeremy, clearly unhappy with Scarlett’s description, “You and I remember Budapest very differently.”

“What happened in Budapest?” Emily asks, eyes widening.

“Classified,” Scarlett says with a wink. “Just kidding. It’s where I met this goober. Almost poked his eye out with an arrow when I walked in.”

“Yeah, you and I are _definitely_ remembering it differently. I was suave.”

Sebastian bursts out laughing. “I haven’t known you for long, man, but not sure you can pull off suave.”

Chris winces. “I have to agree,” he replies, slapping Jeremy on the shoulder. “Another time.”

“It’s a conspiracy. You’re all out to get me! Lucky would understand.”

They all laugh and return to their meal, healthy as it is.

*

“Well that was fun,” Chris says, as he unlocks the door to his room.

“Yeah, Jeremy is cool,” Sebastian answers, dropping his duffel and shucking off his training jacket. “So what’s on the docket for tomorrow?”

Chris removes his training gear and folds it neatly. “I’m not sure. Check your schedule?”

“But that’s _work_ ,” Sebastian complains, dumping his clothes in a pile. “I didn’t want to check, I just wanted you to tell me.”

“Outta luck, bud.” Chris collects his toiletries, making sure that he brings his pajamas in with him. Usually he just sleeps in boxers, but since he’s sharing a room with someone he only started getting to know earlier that day, he grabs some shorts and a baggy t-shirt.

Sebastian huffs but pulls out the sheet of paper that details every minute of his life for the next few days.

“Okay, breakfast at …seven-thirty?!” Sebastian cries. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

“You’re an Olympian. Aren’t you used to getting up at the asscrack of dawn?” He sets his things down in the bathroom and starts his nightly routine. Face, teeth, hair, and changing.

“Well, yeah, but…fine,” Sebastian pouts. “Okay, so we have a photo-op in the morning, then training, lunch, rest hour, training, time for health services, dinner, and an optional mountain run.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Chris says, his voice echoing from the bathroom. He wrestles with his leotard for a few seconds, as he’s wearing a new one so it’s not as stretched out yet. He breathes a sigh of relief as it pulls it down. Not that he’ll ever get tired of wearing leotards, but he does love that moment at night when he gets to pull it off and everything feels free again.

“Sure does.”

“Do they tell us what we need to wear for this photo-op?” he calls to Sebastian, pulling on his nightshirt and shorts.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, walking to the bathroom so he doesn’t have to shout. “We’re supposed to wear our Olympic village outfit. Which one is that again?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Weren’t you paying attention? It’s the navy shorts and the white polo with red stripes on the sleeves.” He runs his toothbrush under the water and starts brushing.

“Why does everything have to be red, white, and blue?” Sebastian asks, going to rifle through his suitcase for the appropriate attire.

“Because we’re the United States of America, idiot,” his voice muffled from toothpaste.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Well I know _that_ , but there’s only so many combinations they can make. Oh, and there will also be photographers at the gym for our ‘first official day of training’ so make sure that you have your new Team USA training gear.”

Chris emerges from the bathroom, his face still slightly damp from when he ran some cold water over it. Water droplets cling to his eyelashes, making them darker and longer. He watches as the air leaves Sebastian’s lungs; the Romanian does his best to hide it.

Chris sends a bright smile to Sebastian and goes to the small training area. He always likes to end his day with a small workout. Nothing big, just some stretches and weights.

“I’m going to take a shower, but if you need to go to sleep, don’t worry. I’ll find my way back.”

“No problem,” Chris replies, enjoying the feel of the free weight in his hand. “I’m going to be doing this for a bit anyway.”

Sebastian nods and takes his things into the bathroom. Chris turns to the full length mirror and watches as his arms curl and relax.

It feels good to be at the Olympic Training Center. He misses Hayley and her bright smile. He wishes that she were here training with him, so he’d have someone to share this with. And someone who he could talk to about Sebastian with. He supposes he could text her, but he doesn’t want to bother her. It’s a couple hours ahead for her and already very late.

Once Chris finishes with the free weights, he sits on the floor to do some stretches. As he places his cheek delicately on the mats with legs out to the side, he thinks about Sebastian and the cute way some of his words sit in his mouth differently. Chris had noticed him during training, and saw the strands escaping from his bun. They were indeed very enticing. It had been hard for Chris to keep his eyes off of the way Sebastian flew through the air with grace that Chris thinks he can never achieve.

_Stop it!_ he tells himself. _It’s day one. You need to focus_. Yes, focus is necessary. Also sleep.

Arching his back once more, Chris climbs into the giant bed and turns off the light. He cuddles farther down the bed and is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He doesn’t even hear Sebastian come out of the bathroom.

*

When Chris wakes up in the morning, he rolls over to see Sebastian snoring lightly on the next bed. He glances at the clock. 6:00am. Well shit. Chris sighs and tries to go back to sleep, but his mind is already humming with the prospect of having to do press in a few hours.

Publicity is the one thing he could do without in this sport. He hates getting in front of people and cameras. He hates how hot the lights get and how artificial he feels with makeup to even out his imaginary blemishes. He feels large and gawky and awkward. He usually needs something to ground himself so he doesn’t work himself into a panic attack.

After 30 minutes of solid worrying, Chris swings his legs out of bed, and goes to the bathroom. He takes a leak and brushes his teeth. Popping his head out, he sees how deeply Sebastian is sleeping and ventures to take a shower. As the small room fills with steam, Chris finds himself beginning to calm. He sets out his lavender scented whatever it is (Carly had gotten it for him a while ago and he still doesn’t know what it is, but it makes the bathroom smell nice when he showers), and breathes the comforting scent. He takes his time in the shower, experimenting with the different settings on the shower head. The massage function will be nice after training starts up.

He lathers himself, taking care to make sure that he’ll be fully clean and sans chalky nail beds when it comes time to be on camera. He washes his hair and narrowly avoids getting shampoo in his eyes.

Chris stays in the shower longer than strictly necessary, feeling the warmth of the water. He knows he has time. Listening carefully over the rush of the water, Chris waits to hear any movement from the other room. Sensing none, he brushes his hand over his flaccid cock, willing it to hardness. It’s one of his morning rituals in the shower. He finds it helps him from popping any embarrassing boners while he’s at the gym if he takes care of it before training.

He can jack off silently, a skill he developed living in a house with three siblings, all of whom were very intent on being in each other’s business. Chris grits his teeth as his cock stands tall, the head leaking droplets of precome washing away from the shower. He gently strokes, base to tip, running his thumb over his slit. The shower makes everything slick and warm. He runs his other hand up the chiseled planes of his abs to his defined pecs. He tweaks his nipple, letting out a tiny moan. He’s always had extremely sensitive nipples, and while he’ll never tell anyone, sometimes he puts band aids over them so the chafing of his leotard won’t distract him from the competition.

Chris feels his breaths coming heavier and his hands moving faster. Sweat beads at his forehead and his balls contract. All to soon, he feels the telltale pull at the back of his spine. He rests his head on his arm, braced against the shower wall. As he feels his orgasm rush through him, he lets out the softest “ _fuck!_ ” and spills all over his hand with the image of a laughing brunet behind his eyelids.

He comes back slowly, washing away the evidence with the warm water. As he becomes more lucid, he remembers just what he thought of as he came.

“Fuck,” he mutters, knocking his forehead against the cool tile. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

* * *

“Why do you want me leaning on the beam?” Sebastian asks, already frustrated with these photo ops. “I don’t even compete in beam!”

“It’s aesthetically pleasing,” the director of the photo shoot says, sounding just as frustrated as Sebastian. They’d been introduced, but Sebastian had promptly forgotten his name. Jeff something? Jed? Joss? Yes, that’s it. Joss. Sebastian grumbles, but puts himself behind the beam. “Now look fierce.”

Sebastian doesn’t have to try. He lowers his eyebrows and sucks in his cheeks to emphasis his jawline and cheekbones.

“Wonderful, just stay like that…”

Sebastian clenches his teeth, just waiting for it to be over.

“All right, thank you Mr. Stan.”

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, stalking off. It’s ridiculous to have him pose near a balance beam. It’s not even an apparatus in men’s gymnastics.

He glances over to the American flag backdrop at the other end of the gym. Bright lights are set up and he can see Chris shifting nervously to the side. He’s wearing the navy shorts and white polo, looking like a real life Captain America. His hair is neatly parted to the side, making him look like he’s straight out of the 40’s.

“Mr. Stan,” calls Joss, making Sebastian jump. “We need you here by the pommel horse.”

“At least I actually compete in that one,” he mutters.

“Okay, we want you to simply swing back and forth, and we’ll take some action shots.”

Sebastian grunts in agreement, moving to chalk his hands.

“Would you mind doing it without the chalk?” Joss asks. “It sometimes makes the photos fuzzy.

“Only if you want me to slip and die,” Sebastian replies, continuing to chalk his hands. “You must be new.”

Joss looks horrified. “I am not.”

“Seems like you are, asking a gymnast to do an apparatus without chalk.”

He huffs. “Just get on the horse so we can both be done. And try and look contemplative.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, but hoists himself onto the apparatus. He swings his legs back and forth, feeling like an idiot. He tries not to let his annoyance show in his face.

This whole morning has been one disaster after another. It started when Chris had been weird and jumpy all through breakfast, refusing to look Sebastian in the eye. Then they got split up so Sebastian had to do “training” while Chris posed for the Olympic Village shoot. Sebastian had really wanted to be with Chris because he knows about Chris’ anxiety, and he wanted to make sure to be there if Chris needed him. Now he has these idiot photographers who don’t really seem like they _actually_ want to capture what it’s like when he’s training.

“That’s great, thanks.”

Sebastian nods and stalks off to find Scarlett.

“Is your leo giving you a wedgie?” Scarlett asks before Sebastian can even open his mouth.

“No,” Sebastian answers sourly.

“Then stop looking like it is. What’s up with you, anyway.”

“Idiot photographers. How about you?”

“They’re all calling me ScarJo and I hate it. Other than that not bad. Have you seen our team leos?” she gestures to the one she’s currently wearing. It’s got a blue mesh section at the upper chest and sleeves. At the armpits, it’s the usual blue fabric with a silver star in the center. The trunk of the leotard has vertical red and silver stripes. The whole thing is in that weird metallic material that women’s leotards tend to be.

“It looks amazingly uncomfortable,” Sebastian says, taking a look.

“I mean, it’s not the most comfortable, but at least it’s the right size.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

“Yeah, you guys wear, like, baggy leos. What’s even with that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s better than what you guys have to wear.”  
Scarlett sticks her tongue out. “Is Chris okay?” she asks, head nodding towards the American flag.

Sebastian whips his head around, feeling his neck crack. “Oh shit,” he says quietly, hurrying off towards Chris.

“Chris,” Sebastian says, appearing at Chris’ shoulder. Chris is hunched over, taking deep breaths. “Chris, can you hear me?”

Chris looks to Sebastian with unfocused eyes. “Hey buddy, can you take a deep breath for me?” Sebastian asks. Chris nods and breathes in. “And exhale…” Chris lets it out. “Good job. Again?”

Sebastian continue like that, helping Chris regulate his breathing. When Chris’ breaths are even enough, Sebastian turns to the hands that are clenched in tight fists. He takes a moment to appreciate the veins that jut out from Chris’ forearm. Just a moment.

“Chris, can you unclench your fists?”

Chris’ eyes start to come back into focus. “Yeah,” Sebastian encourages as he sees the tension leave Chris’ arms. “Just like that. Okay, open them slowly, they’re probably stiff judging by how white your knuckles were.”

Chris nods, slowly unfurling his fingers. Sebastian admires how long they are, perfect for grabbing bars and the pommel horse.

“Alright there?” calls Coach Jackson to Chris and Sebastian. “It’s just about your turn, Mr. Evans.”

Sebastian sees the panic running through Chris’ brain. “Chris, hey, shhh, just tune it out. Keep breathing with me. Can’t have you passing out.”

Chris nods, starting to match his breathing with Sebastian. “Good, just like that,” Sebastian says. “You’re doing great. Listen, I’m gonna stay here while you’re doing your shoot, and you just look at me whenever you need. I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you,” Chris says quietly, his voice still a bit breathy.

Sebastian’s heart goes out to Chris, so graceful and confident when he’s competing, but gets so anxious for press. Sebastian wants to do everything in his power to help Chris stay calm and in the right headspace.

“Evans, you’re up!” Coach Jackson calls.

Chris’ shoulders stiffen, but relax when Sebastian simply says “Chris.”

Sebastian takes a step back while Chris goes in front of the American flag. He looks handsome, if a bit dorky in his regulation clothing.

“All right, Mr. Evans, put your hands in your pockets and gives us a big smile, okay?” asks the photographer. Sebastian watches as Chris’ hands go in his pockets. There’s still a lot of tension in his shoulders, so Sebastian gives him a goofy smile and a thumbs up. He’s happy to see Chris relax and smile. It’s a forced smile that looks posed, but apparently it’s good enough for the photographer.

“Now, put your hands on your hips and look off into the distance, please?”

“What?” Chris asks.

“Pretend you’re a superhero.”

“Uh, okay…” Chris says tentatively. Sebastian has to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He gets a dirty look from Coach Jackson, but he doesn’t really care, since there’s a twinkle of mirth in Coach Jackson’s eyes as well.

Chris shuffles his feet, placing them shoulder width apart. He carefully places his hands on his hips and tilts his head to look up into the distance. At that angle, Sebastian can’t help but admire Chris’ strong jawline. He notices how Chris’ eyes fill with determination, hope, and dare he say it…patriotism.

“Wonderful!” calls the photographer. “Now we’re going to do a more fun one. I want you to jump in a straddle.”

Sebastian sees Chris flick his eyes over, and Sebastian gives him a comforting nod. Taking a deep breath, Chris jumps and reaches out to touch his toes in the air. Sebastian sees a genuine smile light up Steve’s face, a small crinkle near his eyes, and a light buoyancy to him.

Sebastian is so wrapped up in his own thoughts and the small flutter he feels in his stomach to even hear the photographer tell Chris he’s done.

“Hey, thanks Sebastian,” Chris says, making Sebastian jump. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

“Uh, no. And you’re welcome,” Sebastian replies, mentally shaking himself. “Uh, you can—um—call me Seb, uh if you want.” Sebastian cringes at how stilted that sounded.

Chris smiles a real smile. “Okay, Seb,” he tries out. “Hmm, I like it.”

Sebastian looks at Chris, falling into his endless blue eyes. “Me too.”

_Well shit_ , he thinks. _This cannot be good._

* * *

After his initial near-meltdown the first official day, Chris settles into life at the Olympic Training Center well. That night, he spent the majority of it apologizing to Sebastian, all of which fell on deaf ears. He then spent the rest of the night replaying every moment in his head, agonizing over each moment. Interspersed in that, he kicked himself for how much he had wanted Sebastian to put a hand on his shoulder or take his hands to unclench them. To be honest, he’s glad that Sebastian refrained from physical contact, because that might have not ended well, but he still can hope.

He doesn’t fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning, and even so, it’s a fitful sleep. Sebastian’s alarm wakes him up far too soon, and he rolls over and sticks his head under his pillow. He hears Sebastian walking around and getting ready for the day. The shower starts, and Chris momentarily wonders if Sebastian has the same morning routine as him. You know, _that_ one.

“Fuck,” Chris mutters to himself, feeling his cock getting hard. Keeping an ear out for the sounds of the shower, Chris reaches into his sleep shorts, and within minutes is spilling silently over his hands and shorts.

Not a minute later, the shower shuts off and Sebastian emerges clad in only a towel, water droplets running down his chiseled chest, hitting the towel slung low on his hips. Chris is glad he just came, or he’d get hard all over again. He pretends to still be asleep, even though Sebastian would be able to tell that Chris’ breaths were coming far too fast and unevenly to be a guise of sleeping if he were paying any attention.

He feels something damp hit him in the face and he jerks away, trying to extract himself.

“What the fuck?” he cries, kicking and flailing.

Sebastian doubles over in laughter.

“Get up, sleepy head. Breakfast’s in fifteen.”

“You’re an asshole,” Chris says, tossing the towel back at Sebastian, who thankfully put on clothes while Chris had been freaking out. The towel flopped onto the end of Chris’ bed and slowly slid to the floor.

“Get up, dummy. It’s our first full day of training!”

Chris groans, grabs clothes, and pads to the bathroom. His shorts are starting to get uncomfortably sticky, so he runs the shower and quickly washes himself down. He sighs into the warm stream, wondering how he’s supposed to make it through the next four weeks without making a total fool of himself or spontaneously popping a boner during training.

He’s stepping out and drying himself off when he hears a knock at the door. Chris almost slams his head against the ceiling, he jumps so high.

“Chrrrrriiiiissssss,” Sebastian whines. Chris hears a _thunk_ , indicating that Sebastian thumped his head against the door. “Come on, you’re taking so long.”

“Have you ever tried pulling on a leotard when you’re half wet?” Chris calls exasperatedly through the door, yanking and pulling at the straps.

“I don’t care, I’m hungry.”

“You don’t have to wait.” He doesn’t hear a response, but he also doesn’t hear the front door open. Chris feels a little too happy that Sebastian chose to wait.

After a few more agonizing moments where Chris _definitely_ gave himself multiple wedgies, he finally opens the door, zipping up his warm up jacket.

“Took you long enough, grandpa,” Sebastian jests.

Chris pretends not to notice how Sebastian’s eyes darken slightly when they see Chris’ hair, dappled with stray water droplets.

*

“C’mon, Evans, you’re makin’ me cry,” Coach Jones barks when Chris makes a huge step on his dismount from the high bar.

Chris shakes his head and wipes his forehead. He swings his arms in circles, trying to loosen the muscles in his shoulders that just won’t cooperate.

“Your elbows were bent, your legs coming apart, and you almost missed your release. You gotta do better than that if you want to win gold.”

“I know,” Chris says, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I just don’t feel totally comfortable with this routine yet.”

“Then you better get more comfortable. Let’s go again.”

Chris nods, walking back to the mat. He shakes out his head and arms, taking a deep breath. He reaches his hands up and hops to grab the bar. _Legs up, swing around…hit the handstand, gain momentum,…release, full twist backflip, watch the bar….pirouette…around, around, release again, over the bar, and grab,…around once, pirouette, release, grab, around…once more…double twist to dismount…_

“Evans!” Jones says sharply. Chris is breathing deeply. It felt better than the last few times, but still not perfect.

“It was better,” Jones tells him. “Keep those toes pointed and don’t bend your elbows.”

Chris nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Good man. Now try again.”

And so it goes. Chris does his routine time and time again. Some are better than others. There’s one run through where the stars align and it all comes out perfectly.

“Do that in Rio and the gold’s yours, son,” Jones had said. Chris had smiled and gotten right back on the bar, energized by a clean routine.

When he takes a break to drink water and re-chalk his hands, he looks over to where Sebastian is practicing on the floor. He’s mostly trading off tumbles with Scarlett, but Chris is mesmerized by just how powerful Sebastian is when he’s flying through the air. He can tell that something is off in how his upper body communicates with his legs, but the height he gets is incredible. Chris notices that he steps out of bounds on almost every tumble, which is not ideal in the least. He can see the firm face that Sebastian’s coach wears, his expression cool and calculating. Coach Jones is rough on the outsides, but he has a soft spot for Chris.

“All right Evans, enough gawking. Let’s try the vault.”

Chris flushes at being caught, but he grabs his things and goes to the other side of the gym. Emily is already there, practicing her arm movements. Her face is deep in concentration.

“Hey,” she says brightly, when she sees Chris coming over. “Coming over to steal my apparatus?”

Chris laughs. “Of course not. Haven’t you heard sharing is caring?”

“Okay, Em, let’s see that Amanar again.”

“That’s Ming-Na, my coach. She’s hard, but a real sweetie if you get to know her,” Emily explains, chalking her feet.

“’Atta girl, Emily, you got this!” Ming-Na encourages from the side after making sure the springboard was in the exact position.

Chris watches as Emily stares down the block with a fierceness he hasn’t seen in a long while. She rocks back a tiny bit, and then she’s off. He knows it well. She has 12 runs before she goes into the round off. He, with a longer leg span, has 9 to reach maximum velocity. He guesses she’s at her maximum velocity by step six or seven, while he’s at his by step four or five.

He hears her launch off the block and soar high in the air. One and a half flips, two and a half twists, and Emily comes into her blind landing. Chris watches as she takes a big step on her dismount, but collect herself and finish the run.

“Better,” Ming-Na says to Emily, patting her on the back. “Much better. You’re still pushing off a little with your arms. Focus more on pushing from your shoulders. That will keep your momentum better and launch you higher so you have more time to complete the rotation before you land.”

Emily nods and takes a sip of water.

“All right, Evans, you’re up,” Jones says. “Double pike. I want to see those feet flexed.”

“Yes, sir,” Chris replies, patting the chalk with his feet. Coach Jones gives him the green light and Chris raises his hand, indicating he’s going to begin. He takes a deep breath. _Run, off the springboard…half twist, push up…grab knees, around once, twice, find the floor Chris, and…_

“Not bad, Evans,” Jones says, when Chris stands to full height. “Tiny hop on the landing, but you could still probably get silver with that. But I know you want gold. Let’s try your next one, double lay out, full in, full out.”

“It’s needs a shorter name,” Chris jokes as he readies himself.

“Get a record breaking score and they’ll call it the Evans.”

“Do my best,” Chris says. He runs down towards the block again, focusing on pulling his arms to his body to complete the twisting rotations. He’s not going in for a blind landing like Emily, so he finds the floor and pulls out his arms to stop his rotating momentum.

“Very nice,” Coach Jones tells Chris. “You’re very close to sticking that landing, I can tell. Now let the nice lady have her vault back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Emily says, stepping to the chalk. “Chris can have a turn after me. Like he said, sharing is caring.”

“Shut up,” Chris jokes, standing to the side and stretching his calves. The double pike vault really does a number on his ACL.

Chris watches as Emily sticks five vaults in a row, cheeks flushed pink and strands of her blonde hair coming loose from her clips.

“Nice job, Em,” he says, giving her a huge smile.

“Thanks,” she replies, slightly out of breath.

“Okay Emily, I want you to do some cool down vaults now, then you’re free for lunch.”

“Lunch time already?” Chris asks, turning the where Coach Jones stands.

“You’re getting off easy this morning, Evans. Run your vaults once more and then you’re free. This afternoon is back to the grind. We’re going to do some pommel horse.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, same as always. “Do you mind?” he asks Ming-Na. She nods her head and gestures vaguely towards the block. He chalks his feet and lines himself up. He steps out of bounds on his double pike, but nearly sticks the landing of the Evans, which is what he’s going to call his double lay out, full in, full out, from now on, as that description is _far_ too long.

“Nice job this morning, Evans. I’ll see you after rest hour. Come back ready to go on the floor.”

“Yes, sir.” Chris nods at Coach Jones. “See you then.” As he collects his things and puts on his warm up gear, he watches as Emily runs to the block and do some easier tricks, bouncing and jumping more on the landings. He’s always been extremely impressed by women’s gymnastics. Once when he was younger, he tried going on the beam (under supervision, of course), and ended up falling and spraining his wrist. He has no idea how they manage to do all their combinations.

“Head out of the clouds, Evans,” Sebastian says, knocking Chris on the shoulder as he passes. Chris blinks and stares at Sebastian.

“Right, sorry. Hi! How was your morning?”

Sebastian groans. “Tough as per usual. I was working on the floor. Don’t know if you saw, but it’s obviously not my strong suit.”

“You looked okay to me,” Chris says, fiddling with his duffel bag strap.

“A ha! So you were watching!”

“Hey!” Chris cries indignantly. “That’s not fair. Just for that, you bounced too much on your tumbles. If you bend your knees a tiny bit more on the landings, you’ll absorb some of the spring in the floor.”

“Jerk,” Sebastian replies. “But thanks for the tip. I’ll try it.”

They enter the cafeteria, which is already buzzing. The track and field team had gotten out of practice before the gymnasts, so they were all sitting and eating already.

“Who’s that guy?” Sebastian asks, nodding his head towards a man who obviously commanded his table with his presence.

“Frank Grillo,” Chris says quickly. He’d recognize that face anywhere. He shakes his head, refusing to let memories weigh him down. He’d already spent enough time doing that. “He does discus and shot put.”

“Dude, look at his cheekbones.”

Chris rolls his eyes. He feels an unpleasant tug at his stomach. “Don’t be weird, Seb.” It comes out slightly harsher than he was expecting.

“Look at his arms!”

“ _Seb_ ,” Chris exclaims, pulling him towards the food. He just wants to get out of this situation. “You can’t just say that about people!”

“Say what?” Mackie asks, diving between them to grab a plate of grilled vegetables.

“That Frank Grillo guy has massive arms,” Sebastian repeats.

“Who?”

Sebastian nods towards where Frank is telling an animated story.

“Shit man, he really does. Don’t let Renner hear you say that though. He thinks he’s got the best arms of all of us.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You two are incorrigible. And we’re all Olympians. We all have oversized arms.” He slides his tray along the counter, picking up some salad, chicken, and a pudding cup along the way.

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Dorito,” Sebastian mutters.

“What?” Chris asks, wheeling around.

“What?” Sebastian replies, giving Chris his best puppy dog eyes. “Nothing.”

Chris narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything further. He turns to Mackie. “Let’s find a seat before Seb drools all over our food.”

Sebastian sticks his tongue out. “Woof.”

* * *

Sebastian notices there’s something a little off with Chris when they sit down to eat. His eyes keep flickering towards where Frank is sitting and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

“Fancy meeting you here, Evans,” comes a voice from the head of the table. Sebastian sees Chris’ shoulders tense up.

“Frank,” Chris replies shortly, nodding his head slightly.

“Didn’t think you’d make it all the way here, to be honest.”

“Thought wrong, didn’t you.”

“Oh come now, Evans, be polite. Who’re your friends?”

Sebastian watches the exchange like a tennis match. There’s something going on. He’s never seen Chris so cold to anyone (granted, he’s known the guy for, like, 36 hours).

“Seb, Mackie, this is Frank.”

“Fellas,” Frank greets, holding out his hand. “You boys giving Evans a hard time here?”

“Not really, no,” Mackie answers, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Good to hear. Wouldn’t want Evans here to get his leo in a twist.”

Chris shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Sebastian notices how tightly Chris is gripping his silverware.

“It was nice to meet you, Frank,” Sebastian says, putting on a big smile. “Maybe we’ll see you around.”

“Gotta run anyway. Those shot puts aren’t going to shoot themselves!” He gives a wave and saunters off to go back to his crowd.

“You okay, Chris?” Mackie asks, still watching Frank out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine,” Chris answers shortly.

“You don’t look fine,” Mackie presses.

“Just leave it, okay?” Chris returns to eating his chicken, not making eye contact with either Mackie or Sebastian for the rest of the meal.

*

“Chris are you okay?” Sebastian asks as they walk back to their room for rest hour.

“Fine,” Chris says curtly.

“You don’t seem very fine.”

“What is it with you two?” Chris replies, agitated. “I literally just had this conversation, nearly word for word, with Mackie. What would you know? We met yesterday.”

Chris looks stormy and his walk becomes more clipped. Sebastian picks up his pace to keep up. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. You just seem a little…shaken up…from lunch.”

“It’s sweet of you to care, Seb, but it’s really not something I want to talk about now.”

Sebastian nods, not saying anything. Dread fills his stomach.

“You know what,” Chris begins, “I’m going to go for a run. I’ll catch you later.”

Chris turns on his heel and starts jogging away. Sebastian watches him go, and as weird as things are, Sebastian can’t help but appreciate the way Chris’ hips move when he runs. He sighs and continues on to the dorm.

He unlocks the door and throws his phone and wallet onto the bed. He goes to the work out space and drops the floor. He does reps of push ups, sit ups, and some free weights. All the while, his mind is on Chris and Frank. He wonders what could have happened between them that made Chris so uncomfortable. He’s dying to ask Chris, but obviously, that didn’t work out well.

Thinking about Chris, just as it usually does, makes Sebastian feel warmer. His muscles tingle and his body hums with the thought of Chris’ impossibly long eyelashes and Adonis-like upper body. Sebastian has noticed how Chris’ nipples will pucker, popping out of his leo like two pebbles, aching to be pinched and licked. He thinks about how it would feel to have the small peaks between his teeth, biting down softly and flicking them with his tongue. Sebastian thinks about what it would be like to touch any part of Chris. What sounds would he make when his cock is slowly teased to hardness? What would his face look like when he’s caught up in the throes of an orgasm? How would he taste, running down Sebastian’s throat? How would he feel slowly entering Sebastian? Or the other way around?

Sebastian has to stop his rep of sit ups, because the friction from his abs against his rock hard cock has become too much. He’ll need to change his leo, because the inside is sticky with precome. With a sigh, Sebastian stands up, wincing at how constricted he feels, now that gravity is working against him. He quickly strips himself of his leo and shorts, letting his cock hang heavily between his legs. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors show a perfect reflection of Sebastian’s toned ass and thighs. He rotates so that his reflection is in profile, and he can watch as his hand strokes from base to tip. His body flushes at the sight of himself. Precome drools from the tip, falling towards the floor. Sebastian catches it with his free hand, licking it clean. He’s never been turned off by tasting himself. In fact, one of the things he finds hottest is when his partner holds his come in their mouth and he can taste it on them.

In order to save the cleaning crew from an embarrassing job, Sebastian goes quickly to the bathroom, grabbing a hand towel and setting in on the mats. He pumps his hand a few times, the head of his cock shining with the clear liquid. Thinking about Chris, he doesn’t need any extra lube.

Sebastian remains standing, running one hand up and down his toned chest, rolling a nipple between two fingers, imagining the nipple belongs to Chris. His hips buck as heat pools at the base of his spine. He keeps his strokes steady, swiping the pad of his finger over his leaking slit, gathering more precome. He rubs little circles right at the base of the head, throwing his head back at the different sensation. His legs quake and his muscles burn.

Feeling his orgasm hovering near, he lowers himself to his knees. He leans his chest forward, resting his cheek on the cool mat. He doesn’t stop watching his hand making slow movements over his glistening cock, a light string of precome dangling between the towel and the tip. He can see his pupils blown wide, a light flush across his cheeks. Sebastian puts his index finger in his mouth, slicking it up with saliva before reaching behind him and teasing open his hole. He slowly fingers himself, the angle slightly awkward, but the sensations just as intense as ever. His mouth opens in a silent moan while he does his best to keep his eyes open.

His hips rock in time with his strokes and thrusts, teetering on the edge of his orgasm. He shifts so that he can get a better angle with his finger and circles it slowly in his hole. He wishes Chris were there to lick him open and get him slick. He lets out a loud groan thinking about Chris’ pink tongue fluttering out, prodding at his ass.

His hand speeds up and suddenly he’s coming. He manages to keep his eyes open and watches his reflection as his back arches and long spurts of come fall to the towel beneath him. His hole contracts around his finger, but he doesn’t stop pushing in and out. His orgasm rips through him in waves, spiraling outwards and inwards, his toes curling. The pent up tension he has is relaxed as his body finally starts shuddering at the sensations. He strokes once more, twisting his hand at the tip, letting out a small “fuck” as he lets his hand fall.

Sebastian stays like that, unable to move. He’s sweaty and pieces of hair are escaping from his bun. The towel is a mess, and his cock is still shiny with precome and semen. He slowly raises his chest so he’s sitting back on his knees. He licks off the come from his hand and gathers the towel. He wipes up the excess come still on him, bunches the towel into a ball and puts it in the corner of the bathroom. Hopefully it will get cleaned up before Chris gets back after training.

He grabs his phone, cursing at the time. He’s got less than 10 minutes to be at the training center ready to go. It will take him at least six to get there. Faster than ever, he pulls on a new leo, stuffs his feet into sneakers, and runs out the door.

“How was your rest hour?” Scarlett asks, as Sebastian skids into the gym.

“Fine,” he says shortly.

“Why are you all red?”

Sebastian scowls. “Unimportant.”

Scarlett quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Shut up, Scar,” he mutters, leaving her to put his things away. He sees her smile smugly from across the gym and gives her the finger.

*

Over the course of the week, Sebastian settles into life at the OTC. He still hates waking up early, but seeing a sleep rumpled Chris every morning, makes up for it. Usually. Sebastian’s relationship with Chris still seems to be on eggshells. Chris was sometimes his normal friendly self, but other times, without reason, he would close off.

They’d still eat lunch with Scarlett, Emily, and Mackie, but Chris would avoid eye contact with Sebastian. Finally, they’re putting away their trays when Chris rests a hand on Sebastian’s arm, silently telling him to hang back for a minute.

“Look,” Chris begins. “I’m sorry this week has been weird. I’ve just been…working through some things. Would you want to train with me? Tonight?”

Sebastian feels his heart thudding in his chest. Training. Alone. With Chris. Yeah, he can do that.

“Uh,” he says eloquently. “Sure.”

Chris nods. “Great. We’ll go a little after dinner.” Sebastian watches as Chris hikes up his gym bag and leaves the cafeteria. His mind is working a mile a minute, and in a daze he makes his way back to training.

*

“Sebastian!” Redford barks after the third time he fails to stick his landing. “What’s gotten into you? You know what, don’t answer. Just get your head together and do it again.”

Sebastian takes a deep breath. He can do this. He’s done it a million times. He lines his heels up with the white lines painted on the floor. He can see the paths of chalk making diagonal runways across the carpet. _Bend your knees when you land_ , he thinks to himself, remember what Chris had told him on that first day. It had worked, but Sebastian’s head is just not in it. _Run, round off, double Arabian, bend and absorb_ …

“Fuck!” he swears as he bounces out of bounds yet again. He rests his hands on his knees and huffs a breath out.

“Pull it together, Sebastian, this is not what I brought you to this country for!”

Sebastian closes his eyes, trying to ignore his coach’s yelling. He’s cursing himself enough…he doesn’t need Redford on his back too.

“Sebastian,” Redford says quietly, his face inches away from Sebastian’s. “I don’t know what the matter today, but you need to get your ass in the game. You’re wasting my time and your time right now. Don’t let it fall apart now. Got it?” Redford slaps Sebastian on the back hard enough for a puff of air to leave Sebastian’s lungs.

He nods quickly, standing up straight. He glances at the clock. Two more hours of official training, and then he’s off to medical for his weekly massage. He steels his focus, tuning out everything in the gym. It’s just him and the floor.

*

“Ready to go?” Chris asks, popping out of the bathroom.

“Uh huh,” Sebastian replies.

They leave the dorm together, shoulders brushing on every other step. Sebastian feels like he’s ready to crawl out of his skin. Training had ended uneventfully. He managed to stick some landings, so Redford was appeased. Dinner had been tense and uncomfortable, not to mention the awkward couple of hours between dinner and Chris asking if he was ready to go.

“How was today?” Sebastian asks, trying to make small talk.

“Same old, same old. I need to work on my high bar. Can we do that tonight?”

“Sure. I just want to take a run at the rings. Redford isn’t letting me do them because he says I need to improve on other apparatuses first.”

Chris smiles. They reach the gym and turn on the fluorescent lights. The room fills with the familiar hum and they make their way to the high bar.

“So how can I help?” Sebastian asks, dumping his stuff and pulling out his wrist supports.

“I dunno exactly. Just…make sure I don’t die?”

Sebastian chuckles. “I can do that.” He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. This is okay. He can do this. He watches as Chris pulls over a springboard and appreciates the way Chris’ muscles ripple beneath his leo.

_Keep it together, Stan_ , he chastises himself.

“Okay, I’m going to start now.”

Sebastian shakes himself. “Okay sure. Wait…why do you have that springboard?”

Chris smiles. “Well I wasn’t going to ask you to hoist me up now, was I?”

“Oh,” Sebastian says, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks. He should have thought of that. “Yeah, I guess not.”

“Can I start now?”

Sebastian nods. He’s not thinking about how it would feel to hold Chris’ hips and help him reach the bar. He’s definitely not thinking about how warm Chris’ skin probably is, even through the thin layer of leotard. Nope, he’s completely focused on helping Chris get better at this apparatus.

The _twang_ of the springboard jars him from thoughts (again) and he turns his attention to Chris. He makes notes of how Chris can increase his score. He sees no blaring issues, but it’s definitely not the cleanest.

After taking a large step on the dismount, Chris turns to Sebastian. His face is slightly shiny with sweat, but he’s got a smile on.

“How was that?”

“Not bad. Mostly just little things like keeping your legs together and toes pointed. Make sure to keep your shoulders stable. If they’re strong, then your elbows won’t buckle under your weight. Carry yourself by your shoulders, not your elbows.” Chris nods along while Sebastian talks. “You need to get more height on those release combinations, too. If your legs are together, you’ll have more momentum and you can get higher.”

“Thanks,” Chris says, sounding genuine. He chalks up his hands and gets ready to go again.

Sebastian takes a deep breath. “Do you want me to lift you so you can get a better feel for how it’ll be? The springboard gives you a little more momentum than a person.”

“You sure?” Chris asks with a twinkle in his eye.

“Why not?”

“Okay, sure.”

Chris makes his way to under the bar and Sebastian lines himself up behind. He’s about as far from Chris as a middle schooler during a Bar Mitzvah slow dance but he still feels pricks of heat make their way up and down his body.

“I’m ready,” Chris says. Sebastian’s thankful he can’t see the flush down his neck.

Sebastian squares his shoulders and places his hands on Chris’ hips, right at the seam of his leo and shorts. He can feel Chris’ Adonis line and the heated skin. He doesn’t want to let go. He clutches harder as he feels Chris bend his knees in preparation to jump. He lifts Chris and guides him to the bar. Sebastian holds on for a second longer than strictly necessary before letting Chris go to dangle, suspended, waiting to begin.

Sebastian steps out of the way and watches as Chris pulls his body around and around.

He sees it before he knows what’s happening. It’s the telltale buckle of the elbow. There’s no coming back from that. Sebastian sees the struggle Chris is having to complete the rotation and he cringes, because he’s seen it before. He’s done it before. Everyone has. Chris isn’t going to be able to complete his release.

It happens faster than Sebastian can comprehend. One second Chris is hovering above the bar and the next Chris is on his ass with the wind knocked out of him.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian cries, rushing over. Chris blinks a few times and makes to sit up.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replies. “Ouch.”

“I know, it stings like a fucker.”

Chris nods once and stands. He stretches his arms over his head, pushing his chest outwards. Sebastian has to tear his eyes away from the two hard peaks poking out from Chris’ leo. His body gets warm thinking about the things he’s imagined doing to Chris. He hopes Chris doesn’t notice the number of times he has to shake himself.

“What went wrong?” Chris asks. “I couldn’t tell exactly from up there.”

“You let your elbow bend,” Sebastian explains. “It made you lose momentum. It happens to everyone.”

Chris nods again. “Gotcha. I’m ready to try again. Gimme a boost?”

Sebastian places himself behind Chris and hoists him to the bar. He steps back and watches as Chris executes a mostly flawless routine. After a nearly-stuck landing, Chris bounds over, a smile bright on his face.

“Check me out!” he cries happily. “That felt awesome!”

“It looked awesome,” Sebastian agrees. “Want to try again?”

Chris reaches for his phone to check the time. “Yeah, I’ll do mine for a little more and then we can do some rings?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” Sebastian jokes.

“Ha,” Chris says, “I get it, because you’re Stan.” Chris dissolves into laughter and Sebastian can’t help but join in.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Sebastian wheezes.

“Seriously? I can’t believe you haven’t heard that all your life. It’s a classic!”

“Haven’t really been with joking people most of my life,” Sebastian says dryly. The laughter stops and Chris’ face goes serious.

“Oh, Seb. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sebastian fights the flush at hearing Chris call him ‘Seb.’ “No, it’s okay. Why don’t you go over that routine again, huh?” He just wants Chris to stop looking at him with those big puppy dog eyes. So what if Sebastian never really had a best friend or someone to joke with. He has his gymnastics. He has an amazing coach…world renowned! He has things in his life – he doesn’t _need_ a jokester.

“So how was that?” Chris asks, slightly out of breath.

“Huh? Oh it was great.”

“You didn’t even watch!”

“I did too.”

Chris narrows his eyes. “I think it’s your turn now.”

“Great.”

They go to the rings and Sebastian adjusts them so they’re the right height for him.

“I’m just gonna warm up for a minute,” Sebastian tells Chris. “Give me a hoist?”

Sebastian takes a deep breath as he feels Chris’ big, warm hands on his hips. He refuses to let it effect him. He’s only been on the rings a couple of times in this gym, so he needs to be focused.

He jumps, grabbing the rings and feeling Chris’ hands settle on his thighs to steady him. He wills his heart rate to calm as he hangs still.

* * *

Chris steps away from Sebastian, still feeling the ghost of muscle and sinew under his hands. He watches as Sebastian does a couple of flips and other positions. His breath catches at the sight of Sebastian’s muscles, hardly straining. He notices the scars on Sebastian’s left shoulder. He hasn’t asked the Romanian about them, but he knows well enough. He’d followed the story with his heart in his throat back when it was top news in the gymnastics world. It’s amazing to him that Sebastian was able to come back from such an injury and prove himself on the global stage.

It makes Chris feel worse about himself from closing off from Sebastian over the past week. He’s really tried to stay his open, friendly self, but seeing Frank and seeing the way Sebastian reacted to Frank just made his heart sink.

He’s gotta tell Sebastian about Frank and what had transpired between the two of them. He knows it’s the right thing to do. Otherwise, it’s going to be a tough three weeks. He needs to warn Sebastian. He needs to keep him away from the hurt and pain that comes with Frank. And that small part of him that wants to keep Sebastian away from Frank so Chris can have him…well that part isn’t important. Not really.

“Okay,” Sebastian says, breaking Chris from his reverie. “I’m ready to run through it for real.”

Chris smiles. Sebastian chalks his hands and stands under the rings. Chris grabs his hips and pushes him up. He watches, mesmerized, as Sebastian pulls himself through the routine with such ease. He can tell why Sebastian calls this his best apparatus. Every line is clean, every position is held for longer than the required three seconds, every movement is sharp and deliberate. It’s textbook perfect.

“That was awesome, Seb!” Chris says as Sebastian fiddles with his supports.

“Thanks,” he replies sheepishly.

“I can see why Redford doesn’t want you training on that. You’d scare the rest of us away!”

Seb smiles and blushes. “Stop it.”

Chris grins back. “Hey, uh, I feel like I have some explaining to do. I’ve been kind of a jerk this past week.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen. “What? No, of course you—”

“Don’t even try,” Chris interrupts. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I know it’s a shit first impression to make…all fun and then a huge jackass. I just…” he pulls at some of the tape still around his wrists, “some things came up from the past. I should be over it. I’m a grown man…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Sebastian says comfortingly, placing a chalky hand on Chris’ forearm. Chris pulls away, running his hand through his hair. He tries to ignore the disappointed look on Sebastian’s face.

“No, I do. I was being a dick, and I want you to know why. Can we, uh, sit down or something?”  
Sebastian smiles. “I know just the place.”

Chris allows himself to be led to the giant foam pit under some uneven bars. “It always looks really fun when the girls land in the foam, and we never get to,” Sebastian explains. He backs up a few paces and runs full tilt at the pit. He jumps in, momentarily disappearing under all the foam.

“Really?” Chris asks. “Here?”

“I can tell this is going to be a serious conversation. Might as well have it somewhere comfortable, right?”

Chris shrugs. “You have a point.” He lowers himself into the foam pit and maneuvers himself to where Sebastian is.

“So you were saying how you were a dick,” Sebastian says.

Chris swats his arm. “Shut up. I was _saying_ that I feel bad for being an ass this past week. Obviously, Frank and I have history. I think you figured that out the first time you saw us interact.” Sebastian nods. “Well, he and I were…seeing each other…? I don’t even know if you could call it that. He came to Boston to train for a season, and so I met him at some young Olympians meet-and-greet type thing. I had the same reaction you did, when I first saw him. I thought he was amazing. Gorgeous, successful, definitely of the tall-dark-and-handsome variety. I didn’t go up to talk to him, because…you know me…but he came over and was really sweet. He got me a few drinks, we danced a little, and I ended up bringing him back to my place.

“Everything following that was…what’s the right word to use…impassioned? Enthusiastic? Earth-shattering?”

“I don’t need the details,” Sebastian cuts in, his voice tight. “Just…the sparknotes.”

“Sorry,” Chris replies. “Anyway, things were good until they were bad. Initially, Frank was really supportive of my career, making sure to come to competitions when he could, buying new tape when I was passed out on the bed exhausted and out of it, making these crazy breakfasts that were probably, like, five thousand calories or something. Things like that. Until slowly, he started beating me down. Of course I didn’t realize it at the time, but Hayley did. She was all for me dumping him and moving on with my life, but I wasn’t about that. When Frank and I were a thing, that was the most Hayley and I ever fought. I’m surprised she’s still friends with me. I was such a jerk to her.

“Anyway, things continued to progress until Frank was a complete ass to me. Possessive, authoritative, bossy…everything a significant other shouldn’t be. Hayley, with the help of James, you’ll hopefully meet him at some point, finally managed to help me get my head out of my ass. The night before Frank left to go back to training in Houston, I told him that we were through and that I hoped he rotted in hell.”

“You really said that?” Sebastian asks, clearly trying to hold in laughter.

“Excuse you, but this was a very traumatic period of my life.”

“Sorry, Chris,” Sebastian says solemnly. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Jerk,” Chris says lightly, tossing a foam cube at Sebastian who ducks away neatly.

“Go on…finish your story.”

“Oh, it’s almost over. Basically Frank said that he was going to dump my sorry ass and that I’d never get anywhere, and he can’t believe how he wasted so much time on me, blah, blah, blah. I hadn’t seen him until we were sitting in that cafeteria together, and it kind of brought everything back. I took this week to get out my aggression, and I think I’m ready to act like a grown man.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sebastian says. He scrambles around the foam to try and get closer to Chris. “I’m sorry about what Frank did to you. It sounds shitty, and it sucks. Sorry that my gawking brought it all back up again. But Hayley sounds amazing and I must meet her ASAP.”

Chris smiles. “Thanks. She really is great. Maybe we can Skype her soon.”

“I’d love it. And about Frank…I won’t say anything about him anymore or anything.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can be mature about the whole thing. Just…maybe don’t sleep with him?”

“How do you know I even swing that way?” Sebastian jokes. Chris’ face burns and pales at the same time.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax, Chris. I play for both teams.”

“Oh,” Chris sighs. “Okay.”

“What do you say we get out of here and grab some hot cocoa on our way back to our bunk.”

“Hot cocoa? What are you, seven?”

“I’ll have you know that hot chocolate is a specialty here in Colorado.”

Chris smirks. “If you insist.”

They clamber out of the foam pit and collect their things from near the rings. Together they walk in silence towards the convenience store. Chris refuses to notice if their shoulders brush as they walk or if he catches Sebastian watching him. It feels good to tell Sebastian about Frank. Sure, there are things Chris left out, and most of it was extremely simplified, but at least Sebastian knows why Chris was such an ass. Hopefully, Chris has also convinced Sebastian to stay far, far away from Frank.

* * *

Sebastian is quiet the whole way to get hot chocolate. He made light of what he could when Chris had been talking to him, because he couldn’t process what Chris had been telling him. He feels terrible for making such a big deal about Frank, and he wishes he could go back in time and shut himself up, or at least read Chris’ body language better.

“Hey,” Chris says, tearing Sebastian from his inner flagellation. “Don’t sweat it. You didn’t know, and now you do.”

“I still feel bad.”

“And that’s okay. Just don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Sebastian sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

Chris smiles and nudges Sebastian in the shoulder. “Cool. Now I’m getting really pumped for this hot chocolate.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, but hikes up his gym bag and makes swiftly towards the shop.

*

It’s the little things that get easier once Chris is in a good mood again. Mornings aren’t strained as Sebastian tries to make jokes about how tight his new leos are. Training isn’t fraught with Sebastian’s need to constantly be checking on where Chris is and if he looks happy. Meals aren’t coated with a layer of awkward silences as Sebastian makes small talk with his little group that’s formed. He finds that he’s enjoying himself, and that he’s actually getting better at the floor.

He and Chris had had a few more late night trainings, mostly when one of them couldn’t sleep because of nerves or anxiety or adrenaline. They’d hike to the athletic center together and Chris would help Sebastian improve the coordination of upper body and lower body and Sebastian would help Chris not buckle on the high bar. Sebastian works hard each morning and harder each afternoon. As far as Sebastian knows, if Coach Redford can see the difference, he doesn’t comment on it.

Sebastian’s even managed to keep himself from jerking off at the thought of Chris’ brown hair nestled between his legs, blue eyes looking adoringly upwards as he bobs his head over Sebastian’s cock. Oh no, Sebastian has been doing a fantastic job keeping his Chris-fantasies at a minimum. That’s not to say he never does, he is only human, but it’s not every time that he comes at the thought of Chris moaning his name and Sebastian rocks into him, drawing out yet another orgasm from his oversensitive body.

It’s been nearly a week since Chris opened up to Sebastian, and Sebastian notices Chris’ improvement on the high bar. And it’s because of his attentiveness to Chris that Sebastian’s Monday morning training session spirals out of control.

**Author's Note:**

> For your viewing pleasure, some visual aids!
> 
> Sebastian during his photoshoot with Joss Whedon  
> 
> 
> But with this hair  
>      
> 
> Chris during his photoshoot  
> 
> 
> Chris looking patriotic (minus the cowl)  
> 
> 
> And of course, the porn gifs!
> 
> Chris jerking himself off thinking about Sebastian  
>   
> ([source](http://stevebuckypornlookalikes.tumblr.com))
> 
> Sebastian fingering himself  
>   
> ([source](http://kinkygayporn.tumblr.com))
> 
>   
> ([source](http://kinkygayporn.tumblr.com))


End file.
